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Authors: Kristine Kathryn Rusch
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they know this is a multispecies ship?” Uzvuyiten managed to ask the question without it sounding accusatory.
“Perhaps they don’t,” Salehi said. “Perhaps the new policy is to send every new ship this message and let it self-identify.”
Uzvuyiten inclined his head toward Salehi, silently complimenting him on that thought.
“Have you self-identified?” Uzvuyiten asked Wèi.
“I don’t even know what that means,” Wèi said, looking at Salehi. Apparently, Wèi was one of the humans who now had difficulty with the Peyti. Or perhaps Wèi was still feeling insulted.
“How did you respond to their multi-species demand?” Salehi said, both clarifying and asking the same question.
“I contacted you,” Wèi said. “I didn’t contact you .”
The second you was directed at Uzvuyiten. He shrugged his bony shoulders, then adjusted his mask, which—oddly enough—looked like a threatening move, even to Salehi.
Perhaps Uzvuyiten had intended it that way.
But Wèi probably didn’t. Because his gaze was on Uzvuyiten’s hand. Uzvuyiten’s fingers had been damaged long ago, bent backwards between the last knuckle and the tip of the finger. The damaged section glowed blue, and brought out the weird blue edges of Uzvuyiten’s gray eyes.
Salehi frowned at Uzvuyiten. Was he monitoring all shipwide communications or just communications that came to Salehi? They would have to discuss that later.
“You did not contact me.” Uzvuyiten’s tone made it sound like Wèi was a particularly poor student who had finally gotten an answer right. “I’ve been expecting this, so I’ve been monitoring in-ship cockpit communications since I’m not privy to your communications outside of the ship.”
That last part was for Salehi. Uzvuyiten was explaining why and how he got here.
Whether or not he spoke the truth was another matter entirely.
“You’ve been expecting a problem and you didn’t tell me?” Wèi asked.
“One of the reasons I’m here is that the Peyti have been consistently denied access to the Moon since the Peyti Crisis,” Uzvuyiten said. “We’ve been wondering how so many got turned back before arrival at the port itself. I think we have just answered that question.”
He looked at Salehi as he said that last. Salehi had thought all the Peyti had trouble once their ships landed, not before landing.
“And here I thought they were coming after us because we’re S 3 ,” Salehi said.
“S 3 is well known for its human bias,” Uzvuyiten said. “Which is one reason I am here.”
That sounded accusatory as well. Or maybe Salehi was just feeling sensitive.
S 3 did have a human bias. Most of their cases involved humans, primarily because human law within the Alliance was easier for humans to understand and work around.
“We’d already discussed the Peyti problems.” Salehi didn’t like Uzvuyiten’s tone any more than Wèi had. “You weren’t going to come with us to the Moon. You were going to work from the ship.”
Uzvuyiten shrugged his shoulders again. It looked so odd to see him do that. Schnabby would have said it looked like a coat hanger suddenly took on a life of its own.
Salehi forced his partner’s cutting voice from his mind.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Uzvuyiten said. “You need me.”
“Yes,” Salehi said. “You were going to work—”
“No, my dear Rafael.” Uzvuyiten could sound so unctuous when he wanted to. “We are beginning to understand why the Peyti are having trouble on the Moon. You could protest that, with a bit of understanding. Or we could test the system each step of the way.”
Salehi bit back irritation. He had enough to deal with. He had to plan his case for the Peyti clones, and he had to make certain that the local prosecutor went after Zhu’s murderers. Salehi knew that the Peyti government wanted him to pursue the discrimination against the Peyti that had just started on the Moon, but Salehi believed that the courts weren’t the best
“Perhaps they don’t,” Salehi said. “Perhaps the new policy is to send every new ship this message and let it self-identify.”
Uzvuyiten inclined his head toward Salehi, silently complimenting him on that thought.
“Have you self-identified?” Uzvuyiten asked Wèi.
“I don’t even know what that means,” Wèi said, looking at Salehi. Apparently, Wèi was one of the humans who now had difficulty with the Peyti. Or perhaps Wèi was still feeling insulted.
“How did you respond to their multi-species demand?” Salehi said, both clarifying and asking the same question.
“I contacted you,” Wèi said. “I didn’t contact you .”
The second you was directed at Uzvuyiten. He shrugged his bony shoulders, then adjusted his mask, which—oddly enough—looked like a threatening move, even to Salehi.
Perhaps Uzvuyiten had intended it that way.
But Wèi probably didn’t. Because his gaze was on Uzvuyiten’s hand. Uzvuyiten’s fingers had been damaged long ago, bent backwards between the last knuckle and the tip of the finger. The damaged section glowed blue, and brought out the weird blue edges of Uzvuyiten’s gray eyes.
Salehi frowned at Uzvuyiten. Was he monitoring all shipwide communications or just communications that came to Salehi? They would have to discuss that later.
“You did not contact me.” Uzvuyiten’s tone made it sound like Wèi was a particularly poor student who had finally gotten an answer right. “I’ve been expecting this, so I’ve been monitoring in-ship cockpit communications since I’m not privy to your communications outside of the ship.”
That last part was for Salehi. Uzvuyiten was explaining why and how he got here.
Whether or not he spoke the truth was another matter entirely.
“You’ve been expecting a problem and you didn’t tell me?” Wèi asked.
“One of the reasons I’m here is that the Peyti have been consistently denied access to the Moon since the Peyti Crisis,” Uzvuyiten said. “We’ve been wondering how so many got turned back before arrival at the port itself. I think we have just answered that question.”
He looked at Salehi as he said that last. Salehi had thought all the Peyti had trouble once their ships landed, not before landing.
“And here I thought they were coming after us because we’re S 3 ,” Salehi said.
“S 3 is well known for its human bias,” Uzvuyiten said. “Which is one reason I am here.”
That sounded accusatory as well. Or maybe Salehi was just feeling sensitive.
S 3 did have a human bias. Most of their cases involved humans, primarily because human law within the Alliance was easier for humans to understand and work around.
“We’d already discussed the Peyti problems.” Salehi didn’t like Uzvuyiten’s tone any more than Wèi had. “You weren’t going to come with us to the Moon. You were going to work from the ship.”
Uzvuyiten shrugged his shoulders again. It looked so odd to see him do that. Schnabby would have said it looked like a coat hanger suddenly took on a life of its own.
Salehi forced his partner’s cutting voice from his mind.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Uzvuyiten said. “You need me.”
“Yes,” Salehi said. “You were going to work—”
“No, my dear Rafael.” Uzvuyiten could sound so unctuous when he wanted to. “We are beginning to understand why the Peyti are having trouble on the Moon. You could protest that, with a bit of understanding. Or we could test the system each step of the way.”
Salehi bit back irritation. He had enough to deal with. He had to plan his case for the Peyti clones, and he had to make certain that the local prosecutor went after Zhu’s murderers. Salehi knew that the Peyti government wanted him to pursue the discrimination against the Peyti that had just started on the Moon, but Salehi believed that the courts weren’t the best
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